


permissions

by spookykingdomstarlight



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Awkward Declarations of Affection, Awkward Hugs, Comfort No Hurt, Emotionally Repressed, M/M, Mission Related, Pining, Pre-Rogue One, Robot/Human Relationships, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-04
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-22 01:37:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9576086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookykingdomstarlight/pseuds/spookykingdomstarlight
Summary: K-2 recited his spiel, knocked over more than a few of his words in the process, and lost himself in a bog somewhere about the time he was supposed to explain that his central processors were malfunctioning and could Captain Andor please tell him on what level he might find the droid techs?“That’s it.” His hand sliced brutally through the air.You can’t even stop yourself from hesitating with my title. “I’m going with you.”





	

“Listen to me,” Cassian said, fully aware that he wasn’t actually helping the situation by yelling at K-2, and yet here he was, his voice raised, his face warm from the anger he felt, and his feet incapable of keeping him still for more than a second at a time. Sighing, he scrubbed at the back of his head and clenched his fist in his hair. Breathing deeply, he gestured in K-2’s general direction. “You just—you have to believe the lie when you’re saying it. You can’t just say it. You can’t just make it up on the spot and hope for the best. You have to know what you’re saying is the truth.”

“You don’t do that,” K-2 said. And when he was being the reasonable one, Cassian knew they were in trouble.

“Because I know how to lie. People who don’t know are stuck—”

“I’m not a person, Cassian.” And stars, even the way he said Cassian’s name was obnoxious, enunciating each sound like they were actually important. Cassian hated it. Not least when K-2 had to go and remind him of how different they were, this chasm that separated them, at the same time.

Cassian could have pulled out some of that pro-droid rhetoric he’d seen floating around sometimes—about how droids were just that. They were people as much as any organic, that rhetoric said, and Cassian didn’t disagree. He even knew a few droids that appreciated that particular brand of support, but K-2 had never once wavered in his insistence that he was somehow not the same and that somehow that counted against either himself or the organics around him. Cassian had never figured out which. And he was too afraid to ask. And K-2 hadn’t offered up any suggestion one way or the other about it on which Cassian could base any sort of conclusion.

You’d think the guy who reprogrammed K-2 would know these things about him, but every day that passed, there was something new about K-2 that Cassian didn’t understand and couldn’t bring himself to look too closely at. It wasn’t at all like learning about a person. The more you knew about a person, the better a sense you got of who they were. The reverse was true with K-2.

Not that Cassian minded most of the time. It was unusual, sure. But it made K-2 an interesting challenge, too.

“I know droids who lie better than you do. Maybe I should go find one of them? Artoo-Deetoo is the most flagrant liar I know. I think he might still be on base.” He crossed his arms and glared up at K-2, who stared back down, none-too-impressed by the suggestion. “Do you want to try talking to him about it?”

K-2 scoffed. “Hardly.”

“Then you have to listen to me.”

“I _am_ listening to you.”

Pacing around, Cassian released the hold he had on his hair. “Then why are you still so terrible at this?”

K-2 shrugged, awkward and stilted, and huffed in a manner that was absolutely unnecessary given the fact that K-2 didn’t breathe. “Maybe you’re just a bad teacher.”

_Well,_ Cassian thought, _I’m not exactly proving myself to be a good one, that’s for sure_. “Okay, okay.” He gestured, open handed, at K-2. “Fine. You’ve made your point. Let’s try it again.”

K-2 recited his spiel, knocked over more than a few of his words in the process, and lost himself in a bog somewhere about the time he was supposed to explain that his central processors were malfunctioning and could Captain Andor please tell him on what level he might find the droid techs?

“That’s it.” His hand sliced brutally through the air, now making his own point. _You can’t even stop yourself from hesitating with my title_. “I’m going with you.”

K-2 looked down, not at Cassian, but at his feet. “General Draven won’t like that.”

“I don’t care. If he wants that base sabotaged, he won’t say no. You’ll never make it past the door otherwise. We’ll lose you and we won’t even succeed at our goal. It’s irresponsible. And so I won’t let you off this planet without me.”

“But Cassian—”

“No!” Stalking toward K-2, Cassian jammed his finger into the cool, unrelenting durasteel plate that served, in place of chest and ribs, to protect the various motors and computing centers inside of him. “You’re not an object to be tossed at the enemy because it’s easier than forging the kind of credential that would get a person past them. I’ll make my case to Draven. You can just… keep practicing.”

“You could write an algorithm for me,” K-2 suggested, like it was that easy.

Cassian laughed. “Draven would love that, wouldn’t he?” But the truth of the matter was, independent of how terrible Draven would find the idea of a droid _specifically programmed_ to lie, Cassian didn’t want to. He’d already altered K-2’s programming as much as he was willing to and he stood by that, no regrets. What he’d done had been necessary. But it wasn’t right to fiddle further, not when K-2 clearly had his own thoughts and opinions and, maybe, feelings.

And if he liked the way K-2 was, and didn’t want to upset whatever delicate balance inside that mess of programming and old-fashioned wiring that made him _him_ to make him more useful, that was his own business. K-2 was already useful.

He just wasn’t good at lying.

*

Installing a holocam in K-2’s ocular sensors turned out to be easy enough. Giving him an internal comm that wouldn’t be detected by scans or while transmitting? A little more difficult, but doable. Sitting in a starship while K-2 made his way, alone, toward the nearby base? Impossible. Or near enough to it that Cassian still wasn’t sure how he was here, staring at a flat, blurry projection of what K-2 was seeing, instead of out there with him, protecting him.

Everything inside of him screamed that he should be there.

“How are you doing, Kay?”

The only downside was they hadn’t had time or the ability to give K-2 a way to talk back, not one that wouldn’t immediately clue the Imperials in on what was happening. K-2 raised his hand slightly, but whether that was an indication of anything or merely him walking, Cassian couldn’t say. Biting his lip, he grasped the comlink tighter, its cheap, duraplast casing cracking slightly under the pressure.

_Relax, Andor_. “Remember, you’re confused, right?” he said. “Your mind isn’t working correctly.”

The cam, as well as K-2’s ocular sensors, swiveled, up and down. And in that motion, Cassian could almost hear the sound of K-2’s exasperation. _I know that_ , it seemed to say.

_I wish we’d had time to install one of the interfaces the astromechs use to communicate with their pilots. That might’ve worked_.

Not that Cassian knew where they might have hidden it that wouldn’t have given them away, but still. It would have been something. At least knowing K-2 could tell him if he was in trouble would have been something. Instead, he could only pick up what K-2 said or what anyone around him might say.

He was hamstrung in here, useless. If K-2 needed help, he wouldn’t get it. Cassian couldn’t reach him. He would try. Of course he would try. But he had no illusions about actually succeeding.

This was where, if he was a braver man, he might have said something to K-2. Told him how much he appreciated their friendship. Share an anecdote to make him feel better. Cassian had a few missions in his past that might have compared with this one. But his throat closed up on him and he knew there was no real point.

K-2 probably didn’t care one way or the other.

Cassian’s breath shuddered through him as K-2 approached the base and a stormtrooper guarding the gate stepped forward. “Halt, droid,” the faceless soldier said, his voice no different than the voices of so many other stormtroopers. “Shouldn’t you be on patrol?”

“I am experiencing a malfunction,” Cassian said, K-2 repeating the words a fraction of a moment later. Even just that tiny confirmation that K-2 was still fine made relief, premature and pointless, rush through him. He’d already known K-2 was fine. But hearing him was comforting. Now was when Cassian should’ve started worrying.

“What kind of malfunction?” the stormtrooper asked, suspicious, his blaster raised. From what Cassian knew of them, they didn’t much like the security droids that had been built to offer additional protection to the various bases, occupied cities, and capital ships that plagued the galaxy.

“A loose motivator is causing power depletion in excess of optimal consumption rates. I believe it may also have damaged a portion of my central memory core. I am having trouble accessing a map of the base. Can you tell me where the repair facilities are?” they said, nearly in tandem.

The stormtrooper turned to look at his fellow soldier, who shrugged in return. A sign of some sort, but Cassian wasn’t sure what kind. It might have been good, but it might not have been good, too. Cassian closed his eyes and breathed deeply. Hoped for good.

“I’ll take you in,” the stormtrooper said after a moment, aggrieved. Even with the helmet and the distortion of not only his helmet’s comm system, K-2’s, and the distance between all three, Cassian could hear his annoyance.

“That is unnecessary,” K-2 said, sounding far more like himself than he had a moment ago.

“No. No, no, no,” Cassian replied, hushed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Don’t say that. Don’t question him.”

“You sure it’s your motivator that’s loose?” the stormtrooper said, disbelieving. “Unless you want a hole in your casings, you’ll do what you’re told, droid.”

“Tell him you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I seem to be malfunctioning again.”

Cassian screwed his eyes shut. _Don’t give up more information than you have to_.

The stormtrooper merely gestured with his blaster. “Move it.”

“Okay, okay. This is good,” Cassian said, releasing a breath. The pep talk was unnecessary, but it made him feel better. They hadn’t planned for an escort, but that didn’t change their objective. Not much anyway. Just so long as K-2 kept his mouth shut. “However he takes you through, once you find a console you can slice into, if there’s no one around, you drop him.”

Cassian didn’t want to think about what would happen if the stormtrooper chose a busy thoroughfare. But this was the one part of Cassian’s suggestion that he didn’t have to worry about too much. If K-2 was good at one thing, it was extricating himself from the enemy by whatever means necessary—so long as it didn’t involve lying. And dropping a person? Well, K-2 was a seven-foot tall droid with a great deal more resilience than even an armored person was equipped with. If it came to blows, K-2 would win against a stormtrooper. On that score, there was no doubt. He could probably take a few more than that, too, though Cassian wasn’t willing to set a number. Regardless, the less attention he drew to himself, the better.

Drumming his fingers against the armrest, he leaned forward, squinting at the terrible image before him. If only he could see better, that would help. _Would it though, Cassian,_ he thought. _Would it really?_

_Yes,_ he decided. _Yes, it would._

What Cassian would have given for a full view of K-2’s surroundings didn’t bear thinking about. But at least he could have warned K-2 if he was in danger. He could have been useful. This waiting and watching uselessly… it was hell.

Next time, he’d go over Draven’s head. Surely Mon Mothma and Bail Organa would prefer they not waste a priceless analyst on missions like this. Not when they had trained saboteurs who would eventually have found a way in and probably more safely than K-2 had had to make his approach. _You would be trading one life for another,_ Cassian thought.

Then: _no, you would be valuing one life has much as the other_.

It wasn’t like they sent saboteurs in where pilots should go. Or spies were assassins were called for. The right person for the right job. Just because K-2 looked like an Imperial security droid, that didn’t mean this was where his best work could be done.

He’d only been sent because he was a droid, never mind that Draven “thought he had the greatest chance of success.” And that was what bothered Cassian about it. It wasn’t about succeeding. It was about Draven valuing an organic’s life over a life that was equally valuable and not considering that it might be so.

The air around him was chilly in a way that might have been uncomfortable at any other time. As it was, he felt overwarm and angry, boxed in by the stuffiness surround him. _Calm, you’re here now. Your job is to get K-2 out. Stop thinking about everything else_.

Easier said than done.

His nerves ate at his stomach, gnawed up his throat, curled in his airways. He felt like he was in statis, unable to move or think or do anything.

He heard a clang, loud and piercing and flinched, unsure for a moment what had happened. Then, the holoprojector went dark. “Kay!” he called, slapping at the holoprojector.

A hiss was the only response he received for his trouble. And the holoprojector refused to light back up.

“Kay!”

Hauling himself out of his seat, Cassian threw himself at the back of the ship, grabbing his gear and his jacket. Stowing his comlink, he slammed his palm against the hatch release.

He’d be damned before he let K-2 go down for this alone.

A whisper in the back of his mind tried to worm its way toward the forefront of his awareness.

Even if he ran, it may well have been too late.

*

Approaching the base, he watched for signs that something was amiss, crouching behind a shipping container to avoid detection. The one guard remaining at the checkpoint stood, relaxed, barely paying attention, apparently unconcerned by anything going on around him. No alarms had been raised as far as Cassian could tell, though he hadn’t found a way to get close enough yet to get a better view. Even with binoculars, he couldn’t see much more than the large, ugly, uniformly gray building and some of the duracrete pathways outside.

K-2 was inside of there somewhere, so close that Cassian almost felt like he could sense him, pinpoint his location even without the comlink or the holocam. That was a fantasy, of course, and yet he couldn’t shake the sensation.

“Come on, Kay,” he urged, quiet, his mind frantically searching for a solution to his problem. Maybe he could…?

His comlink hissed, weak, causing Cassian to jump. He thought for a moment that it had picked up a stray transmission, but then K-2 called his name and the world realigned itself and he thought, _oh, thank the Force_ , which was unusual for him. In his experience, the Force did little to help Rebellion spies in their work.

He scrambled for the comlink, nearly dropping it in the dirt. “Kay!”

“You might want to start running.”

“What?”

A deep, thrumming boom sounded from somewhere inside the base. A sick, cracking noise that made Cassian uneasy. “I would suggest running, Cassian.”

Dark gray glinted from the entrance of the base; Cassian didn’t require binoculars to know what that meant. If he’d thought to bring his rifle attachment, he’d have added it, but instead, he left cover, rushing forward to ensure he was close enough to take out the stormtrooper if K-2 needed the backup.

“That’s not running.”

“Shut up.”

“Cassian, that is the opposite of running.”

“Why don’t _you_ run, huh? Then I wouldn’t have to cover you.” Aiming one handed wasn’t Cassian’s idea of a good time, but he wasn’t willing to give up what little connection with K-2 he had by stowing the comlink. Besides, before Cassian could do so much as line up a shot, K-2 was already rushing toward the stormtrooper that stood between him and freedom, shoving him to the ground with such ferocity that he didn’t get back up or move at all. Cassian thought he heard the sound of crunching duraplast over the comm, but he couldn’t be sure.

Despite seeing K-2’s loping frame making its way toward him, Cassian still didn’t relax, his heart at odds with what he was seeing. Every step K-2 took, he expected a blaster shot to hit him from the opposite direction, a grenade, anything. The Empire would stop them; he was so sure of it, he forgot for a moment to keep an eye out for enemies.

He hadn’t expected K-2 to come out of it unscathed.

He hadn’t expected _himself_ to come out of it unscathed either.

A flash of white caught Cassian’s attention. Then another and another and another, spilling out of the front of the building at an alarming rate.

Well.

Shit.

Time to start running.

“Move it, Kay!”

*

“Do you think we’ll have to blast our way out?” Cassian asked, racing for the cockpit, K-2 trundling along behind him, constricted by the size of the ship and the fact that he had to duck to get anywhere in it. Stooping didn’t exactly make it easy to get anywhere quickly.

But that was okay. They were on the ship and Cassian could complete the pre-flight checks as easily as K-2 could. Spooling up the navcomputer, he fell into the co-pilot’s seat. Various switches and buttons snapped as Cassian touched them, the noise clipped in the silence that neither he nor K-2, it seemed, wanted to break.

“It’s one hour and thirty-six minutes too late for that question,” K-2 finally said. “But I could say something quippy and reassuring if you’d like.”

The navcomputer spit out the required coordinates and K-2 nodded, taking the pilot’s controls, slotting the ship so easily into the correct trajectory that you’d think he was an astromech. Cassian didn’t doubt for a second that K-2 would hit the target just right, haul them into hyperspace before the lone Imperial starship in orbit could do anything about it.

The ride might have been bumpy, making the jump even in high atmosphere never made for a smooth transition, but they were safe, as safe as they would ever get.

And there was one less Imperial base in the galaxy. That was a good thing.

“I guess we did okay,” Cassian murmured, the coruscating blue outside the viewport strangely hypnotic. Still stunned that K-2 had pulled it off, all he could do was stare and turn over one thought in his mind again and again. _We were lucky._

“Your definition of ‘okay’ lacks sense,” K-2 replied, “and a thorough understanding of—”

“Kay,” Cassian said, feigning a cheer he did not feel. An ache would open in his chest if he didn’t, one that would just threaten to grow and consume everything else inside of him. _We_ were _lucky. We shouldn’t have succeeded. One day we won’t_. “Just don’t. Not right now.”

*

Cassian later found K-2 standing near his quarters, hands awkwardly clasped together. He could have been a statue for how much he moved. “Hey,” he said, slipping between the droid and the door and palming the lock. They’d gone their separate ways after debriefing with Draven, K-2 in search of… whatever he searched for after missions and Cassian, well. Not much different to be honest. He’d gone for a walk, but he had no idea what he’d intended to do on it. He certainly didn’t feel any better now that he’d done it, uncertainty, guilt, and displeasure dogging his every step. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Five minutes and forty-nine seconds,” K-2 said, “approximately.”

Cassian snorted, waving K-2 in. “Approximately, huh? It seems to me you’re slipping if that’s the case.”

“I can give you the exact time in nanoseconds if you’d like.”

“That’s okay,” Cassian answered. The door slid shut behind him. For the first time since they got back, he felt like he could breathe normally again. “I trust you can. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”

“Oh.” K-2 turned and faced him, hunched forward slightly. “Well, good.”

The corner of Cassian’s mouth picked up, inadvertent. He couldn’t help it in fact. He couldn’t say he was happy exactly, but he felt better with K-2 here and not in pieces in that Imperial base where Cassian couldn’t reach him, having who knew what done to him because Draven had issued an order.

“Is everything all right, Kay?” And though Cassian felt pinned to the spot by K-2’s ocular sensors, he pushed forward, stepped around K-2, took a seat on his couch and crossed his legs. Everything was normal now; this twisting, twining thing shouldn’t still be squirming around inside of him.

“Yes, it’s—uh. Fine.” But his ocular sensors slipped away and his head tilted so that he was no longer looking at Cassian. His shoulders seemed to slump even more, which was impressive in a way. They already gave the impression that K-2 carried an aggrieved, constant weight upon them. Now it appeared that burden had doubled. And K-2 clearly didn’t like it or know what to do with it. Sighing, he took a step toward Cassian and then rocked back. Snippy, he spoke again. “I just wanted you to know that I…”

For a moment, Cassian thought K-2 was malfunctioning—no lies—and braced his hands on either side of him, ready to push himself up to assist however he could.

“…I feel the same way that you do. I…” He waved his hand around, the joints creaking slightly, only serving to highlight the differences between them. “…don’t wish you to come to harm either. On missions. Or ever. Except maybe when you insist that I should have an oil bath. I find that offensive and patronizing. Sometimes, when I’m stuck in that contraption I’d like to…” He made a gesture that conveyed exactly what K-2 would have liked to do to him and it clearly involved shaking his idea of sense into Cassian. “But mostly, I… don’t. I just thought you should know that.”

Choking back a laugh, Cassian got to his feet.

“Usually it’s you who’s getting into trouble and there’s nothing I can do about it,” K-2 added. “So I understand what you’re going through.” He nodded, a quick jerk of his head, inhumanely fast. “That’s what I wanted to say.”

There wasn’t really—Cassian didn’t have a protocol for this _thing_ he felt. It was like wanting to punch someone and hug them at the same time. Even when neither option was possible and both would hurt in one way or another.

Staring up at K-2, he wasn’t sure what to say in response. They didn’t cover this in training and he’d never heard of anyone caring—Cassian wouldn’t think of it as anything else—about former Imperial droids. A luxbot, maybe, and even that only when it made a joke of the individual. Astromechs and their pilots developed pretty close bonds, some of them, but even that was played more for laughs than seriousness—at least from what Cassian had seen.

“If it makes you feel any better,” K-2 said, well on his way to babbling if Cassian didn’t step in, “I don’t intend to do that again.”

“Good,” Cassian answered finally, quiet, much too fond for his tastes and probably K-2’s, too.

And then K-2 did something that surprised Cassian. He extended his long, spindly arm and pulled Cassian toward him, his fingers holding tight to his bicep. His touch was cold as he wrapped his other arm around Cassian’s shoulders, the weight a little uncomfortable, but nothing Cassian couldn’t handle.

A hug.

K-2 was hugging him. _Holy shit_.

“Is this correct?” K-2 asked, awkward.

Cassian’s face might have been mashed against K-2’s chest plate, his cheekbone pressed painfully against the deep gray durasteel, but he sure as hell didn’t care about that. “Yeah, Kay. It’s good. You’re good.”

It shouldn’t have helped was the thing. Cassian wouldn’t have said he was the least tactile person alive, but he certainly wasn’t the most and he absolutely didn’t believe he needed to be _hugged_ , not by K-2. Not by anyone. Ever. Not over a mission that hadn’t even gone wrong.

A lump tried to lodge itself in his throat, but he managed to swallow it back before he couldn’t pretend that he was okay anymore. _This is nonsense_ , he thought. _You ought to let go_.

“Huh,” K-2 said, but he didn’t elaborate and Cassian’s mouth was now too dry to properly work. “I’m going to release you now.”

Even once K-2 freed him, he couldn’t quite determine how long they’d held onto one another, but he immediately felt the loss, brought his palm up to the skin-warmed durasteel and pressed hard where a heart would have been if he were one of a number of humanoid species. K-2 didn’t stop him and he didn’t jerk his hand back immediately even though he flinched and wanted to, feeling both ridiculous and far too sentimental for his own good.

_This isn’t the hole you want to dig for yourself, Andor_.

“That was less terrible than I thought it would be,” K-2 said, immensely pleased with himself now and a little callous, but despite himself, Cassian couldn’t be angry. He was, he realized, pleased, too. Pleased that K-2 had thought to do that and pleased that he hadn’t hated doing it.

“That’s good to know.” Cassian rubbed at his arm and looked away.

“I’ll remember this the next time you’re upset.”

“I wasn’t _upset_.”

“The next time you’re not upset then.” K-2 clearly thought a great deal of himself, inclining his head with such grandiosity that Cassian wasn’t sure K-2 wouldn’t fry himself on the pride he’d built up in that processing center of his. It would serve him right if he did though. He tapped his fingers together again and cleared his throat—an affectation he’d picked up from who knew where. “I’m… Cassian, it’s good to know that you care. About what happens to me. I—”

Cassian stepped forward, hot all over, angry at himself and at K-2. Again. This was a day for anger, it seemed. At the former because he could have demonstrated it and the latter because K-2 couldn’t be more oblivious if he tried. “Of course I care!” He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his jaw, his stubble prickly and rough against his palm. _I care too much_.

“I care about you, too.” K-2 ground his foot against the floor, the metal catching on the tight nap of the carpet. He didn’t look at Cassian.

_Oh_.

_Well_.

That was something, wasn’t it? Cassian just couldn’t say _what_. Exciting and frightening and exhausting all at once, though, it definitely was all of those things.

Cassian wasn’t sure what to say, but he was certain he ought to say something. Or do something. Succeed at not making a bigger fool of himself at least. That would be nice.

“I’m… going to go,” K-2 said, “now. I think.”

Dragging a deep, uncertain breath into his lungs, Cassian gestured at the couch. “You could stay,” he said, his blood hammering away at his eardrums, almost as loud as thunder, it seemed.

Dubious, K-2 answered, “If that’s what you want.”

_It’s what I want_. “What do you want?”

“I’d… like to stay.”

“Okay, then.” Backing toward the couch, Cassian flopped back onto it, making an example—and, he was sure, an ass—of himself. “So stay.”

“Okay, then,” K-2 mimicked, taking the seat offered to him.

And if everything wasn’t right with the galaxy—it wouldn’t be until the Empire was nothing but dust and ancient, cautionary history—it was, at least, right within the particularly small bubble of it that Cassian called home. That was enough for him. For now.

**Author's Note:**

> For the [prompt](http://rogueonekink.dreamwidth.org/1084.html?thread=442428#cmt442428):
> 
> _The visual guide mentions that K-2SO makes for a very good undercover droid but considering how bad he is at spontaneous lies, sending him in alone makes Cassian very nervous. He insists on maintaining a radio connection between them so that he can help K-2SO out._  
> 
> _Mostly though I'd like some focus on Cassian's helplessness and anxiety letting K-2SO go alone into enemy territory._
> 
> _Bonus for some nice emotional comfort once K-2SO safely returns, both amused and touched that Cassian was worried for him_


End file.
